


Surrender to you

by Nantai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Snowball Fight, and a teensy tiny bit of angst, gingerbread latte
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 04:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13022862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nantai/pseuds/Nantai
Summary: Marcus is just enjoying his lovely warm beverage when someone reminds him not to use magic in plain sight. So what else to do than to invite him for coffee and a snowball fight, right?





	Surrender to you

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DFFandCabalChristmasFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DFFandCabalChristmasFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Flintwood *snow* *tree* *gingerbread latte* *"I know the holidays are hard for you"*

Marcus took a quick look around and whispered a quiet Warming Charm over his gingerbread latte. The beverage had been one of his guilty pleasures since he had found out about it two years ago. His teammates would probably ridicule for liking such a ‘girly’ drink, but Marcus didn’t really care. They had called him all kinds of names since his childhood and only when he had shown them that he was able to play nearly every position on the Quidditch field had they quietened down a bit.

Taking a look around the muggle street, Marcus admired the decorations once again. Each shop had at least one tree in front of its entrance, and garlands with fairy lights spanned the street. The Christmas cheer permeated the air.

“You know it’s illegal to use magic in front of muggles,” someone said behind Marcus.

He nearly spilled his newly heated coffee and turned around with a scowl. “What do you want, Wood?” Marcus hissed venomously.

“Just saying,” Wood shrugged. “And reheated coffee doesn’t taste as good anyway.”

Marcus turned back around to the street and took a sip from his, admittedly, awful tasting coffee. Wood came to stand next to him and lit a cigarette.

“You smoke?” Marcus asked startled. Few professional Quidditch player were allowed to, and even fewer actually did.

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Wood asked calmly.

“No, I just didn’t know,” Marcus said, watching the other man out of the corner of his eye. “What are you doing in muggle London by the way?”

Wood sighed. “Just needed to get away a bit, you?”

“Same, actually,” Marcus said without looking at his archenemy. “I will get another coffee…” he trailed off wondering what he just wanted to say.

Oliver looked at him in surprise. “Are you asking me to join you?”

Marcus shrugged and shuffled his feet. “If you’d like to? Maybe we could catch up a bit.”

“It’s not like I have any better plans anyway,” Oliver said, putting his cigarette in the bin next to him. “Lead the way.”

Marcus nodded and put his now-empty cup in the bin as well. They walked quietly for five minutes and Marcus wondered the whole time what had come over him to invite Oliver along. For all he knew he hated his guts. But he hadn’t uttered one scathing comment or slur so far, maybe this could work.

The big chaser would never admit it, but he had always admired the burly Scotsman. Oliver was a bit clumsy on the ground, but put him on a broom and he was a fierce keeper who would do nearly anything to save a shot. His abilities had made the rivalry between the two of them so satisfying. Being beaten by someone this good was acceptable, and beating him felt truly great, because it had actually been a challenge.

“What are you thinking about, Flint?” Oliver asked when they entered the coffee house.

“How I beat your arse in every damned Quidditch game until that annoying Potter boy came along,” Marcus said with a smirk. It was at least half the truth.

Oliver scoffed. “Well, you had to put Malfoy on the team, that definitely motivated Potter to win.”

“Higgs was an awful seeker and we both know that, Malfoy was definitely the better option,” Marcus said laughing.

When they reached the counter he asked for a gingerbread latte once again. Oliver got something called coffee Americano.

“What’s that what you’re drinking?” Marcus asked when they sat down with their drinks.

“Espresso with hot water, it’s magical,” Oliver said with a glint in his eyes. “It’s real coffee, not some milked-down sweetened-up version.”

“You have obviously never tried this spicy goodness or you wouldn’t be talking that way!” Marcus exclaimed in indignation, but he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, then let me take a sip!” Oliver said reaching out for the cup.

“A sip for a sip,” Marcus said and Oliver pushed his cup over with a smile.

After nearly burning himself, Marcus had to admit that it didn’t taste half bad. “Well, I still prefer black coffee over this, but if you think this is better,” he said with a teasing smirk.

Oliver huffed. “Yours is way too sweet for me, although I can see the appeal.”

“Well, not everyone can have such impeccable taste as me,” Marcus said proudly which made Oliver scoff again.

“You sure your taste buds didn’t just give up and surrender?” he joked.

Marcus suddenly remembered the two of them rolling in the snow, trying to hit the other with the snowballs they held in their hands. That had happened before they officially started their rivalry in their third year.

“You know no part of me would ever surrender,” Marcus answered half-joking.

“Yeah, you’re way too stubborn,” Oliver said laughing. “That’s what made it so satisfying to win against you.”

“My stubbornness?” Marcus asked in confusion, setting down the cup he had just brought to his lips.

“Yep, because there would always be the promise of retaliation, be it on the Quidditch pitch or in a snowball fight,” Oliver said with a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “By the way, care for one?”

Marcus laughed. “Quidditch game or snowball fight?”

“The latter, I don’t want to freeze my ears off,” Oliver said, taking the last mouthful of his coffee.

“Why not,” Marcus said with a mischievous grin. “I know the perfect spot.”

They put their mugs on the counter and stepped outside. Marcus led Oliver to an alley close by and apparated them to the field behind his family home.

 

Half an hour later they were soaked through and laughing so hard that their cheeks hurt. Oliver had finally surrendered when Marcus had pinned him to the ground and dumped a big load of snow on his face. He had come up sputtering and Marcus had been struck at how beautiful the other man was. His hazel eyes glinting mischievously, grinning brightly and his sandy blond hair sticking out on odd angles.

“Come on, let’s get inside and we’ll get you a towel and dry clothes,” Marcus said, reaching down to pull Oliver up.

“Don’t bother, a drying charm and I’ll be good as new,” Oliver said, and Marcus wasn’t sure whether it was the cold or if the Scotsman really blushed.

“Oh, come on, you’d still be cold and it’s the least I can do after winning,” Marcus said with a cheeky grin and Oliver groaned.

“Alright, if you insist,” he said, laughing. He brushed the snow from his clothes and started towards the house.

Marcus hurried to follow him, pushing him gently and catching the Scot laughing when he actually stumbled. Putting an arm around Oliver’s shoulders, Marcus was glad when he wasn’t pushed away.

Inside he called for a house-elf to prepare grog and led Oliver to his room and bathroom. He was a bit conscious of the clutter of parchments and Quidditch magazines. Planning strategies for a national Quidditch team was no easy task.

“Towels are in the cabinet under the sink, and I’ll get you some clothes,” Marcus said. Oliver nodded thankfully, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Marcus went over to his wardrobe and wondered whether his things would fit the smaller man. Oliver was just as muscular as Marcus, but at least five inches shorter. Realising that he thought way too much about the body of his supposed enemy, Marcus groaned and just pulled out an old Quidditch jersey and a pair of sweatpants. They would do until Oliver’s own clothes dried.

With a flick of his wand he banished them to the counter in the bathroom. Marcus cast a Drying Charm over himself and tried to tidy the couch-side table a bit while he waited for Oliver to return. Poppa brought the drinks and a few biscuits just when Oliver stepped out of the bathroom.

Marcus allowed himself a moment to wonder why he thought giving his clothes to Oliver would be a good idea, and then smiled. “Make yourself comfortable while I take a quick shower?”

“Of course,” Oliver said, this time definitely blushing.

Marcus nodded, grabbed his favourite sweater and sweatpants and vanished into the shower.

* * *

Oliver looked around in the room. Marcus’ room was rather big and divided into two spaces. One clearly for sleeping with a bed, a nightstand and a small shelf with books. The other had a small desk in front of one of the windows, two couches and a side table. The table was overflowing with documents and Oliver couldn’t help but take a look. It seemed that Marcus was working on the strategy for the Falcons’ next game against the Holyhead Harpies. Oliver hadn’t expected Marcus’ handwriting to be this neat, but then the other had probably gone through the typical pureblood tutoring. While Oliver was a pureblood as well, his mother had been raised in a muggle community and had sent him to a muggle school before Hogwarts. It was extremely unusual to say the least, but Oliver thought it had actually helped him over the years.

When he heard the shower being turned off Oliver leaned back; he didn’t think Marcus would appreciate his snooping. He hadn’t seen the other since the trials after the Battle of Hogwarts five years ago, and had certainly been surprised to see him in muggle London. Marcus looked stressed and tired, and only after their snowball fight had some of the tension seemed to leave him. Oliver wondered what had happened that made the formerly energetic man look so spent. He seemed to enjoy his job as Quidditch player a lot, and Oliver hadn’t heard anything that would suggest personal troubles.

“Oi, I don’t think I allowed you to look this brooding,” Marcus suddenly said closing the bathroom door behind him. “That’s my job, last time I checked.”

Oliver laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your job.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what they all say,” Marcus grumbled good-naturedly, and Oliver’s breath caught in his throat for a moment when he looked over to him.

Marcus’ sweater fit snugly over his chest and didn’t hide anything. His overgrown, black hair was tousled from drying it with a towel, and it seemed that Marcus had used the opportunity to shave. The small scar on his left cheek was more visible in the light from the fire in the fireplace.

Oliver cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from Marcus. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Of course, I hope you’re not thinking about leaving already?” Marcus asked, looking a bit concerned.

“No, I just wanted to thank you while I still remember my manners,” Oliver laughed.

Marcus sat down on the couch across from Oliver, and watched him over the rim of his cup. Oliver started to fidget with his hands after a moment under the others scrutiny and finally reached for the other cup.

“You know, you look smoking hot in Slytherin colours,” Marcus suddenly blurted out and Oliver’s head shot up in shock.

“What?” he asked, his eyes as big as saucers.

“I-“ Marcus looked as if he was ready to bolt.

“I mean, I guess I do,” Oliver said trying to soothe the other. “But why do you think so?”

He had never seen Marcus looking afraid, but now he did. “I’m sorry, I understand if you’d prefer to leave.”

“Do you see me looking uncomfortable?” Oliver said, leaning back demonstratively and taking a sip. His heart was in his mouth but he would be damned if he let Marcus see that he was nervous.

“Well, no,” Marcus said, sounding so small and insecure that Oliver very nearly stood up to go and comfort him.

“And I won’t, because honestly, you don’t look half bad in your sweater either,” Oliver said, winking at Marcus with a smile. “And I’d like to enjoy the view a bit longer.”

“You- you like me?” Marcus whispered, sounding baffled.

“Of course, you big dork, what do you think why I joined you for coffee?” Oliver asked exasperatedly. “Definitely not to catch up with my former archenemy.”

Marcus looked completely dumbfounded. “Really? You’re…gay?” he whispered the last word as if it was something to be ashamed of, and Oliver wanted to beat up the people who had broken this man.

“Actually, I’m bisexual. But, yes, I’m currently very interested in you,” Oliver said with more bravado than he felt.

“Is that why you tagged along?” Marcus asked suspiciously.

“I just thought it would be fun to have a snowball fight,” Oliver said honestly.

Marcus sighed and rubbed his face. He looked even more tired and drawn than he had before, and Oliver felt at a loss. Noticing that there were no Christmas decorations up in the room, Oliver wondered whether Marcus celebrated it at all.

“Marcus?” Oliver asked quietly.

“What is it?” the other shot back tiredly.

“Do you celebrate Christmas at all?” Oliver asked cautiously. He knew Marcus’ temper all too well.

Marcus looked up, seemingly startled. “Only with the team, I don’t really have family to celebrate with. Why?”

“It’s just that I didn’t see any decorations in the house,” Oliver tried to explain.

“Well, it’s not easy to get into the spirit with only the house-elves for company,” Marcus said coldly.

“What happened to your parents and your brother?” Oliver asked in confusion.

Marcus scoffed. “Don’t you remember? My mother died when we were in seventh year, my brother when he denied his service to the Dark Lord and my father is currently rotting in Azkaban. Keep up, Wood.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot,” Oliver mumbled. “Maybe you’d like to spend Christmas with me?”

“And why would I do that? As your little charity case?” Marcus hissed, while throwing back the rest of his drink.

“No, I know the holidays are hard for you. I can see it in your face. Back in Hogwarts you were always the happiest around Christmas and now you just look miserable,” Oliver whispered, leaning forward and barely stopping himself from reaching out.

“Is it that obvious, that even a Gryff can pick up on it?” the other asked bitterly.

Oliver bit back a sigh. “No, but someone who has watched you for years can see it. I needed a bit of time to connect the dots, but now I understand. Please, spend Christmas with me and mine.”

“And what will you tell them?” Marcus asked dejectedly. “That your archenemy has nobody to celebrate with and you took pity on him?”

“I thought about telling them that the man I had a crush on for a considerable amount of time finally returns my feelings and I brought him along,” Oliver said with vigour.

That shut Marcus up, and Oliver fumed silently. For a Slytherin, Marcus could be remarkably thick sometimes. But, well, if Oliver had to guess, Marcus probably had never learned that it was alright to love men.

Finally Marcus looked up at him and smiled shyly. “So, will you ask me to be your boyfriend, or will you just drag me along?”

Oliver stood up, walked around the table and sank down on one knee in front of Marcus. “Will you, Marcus Flint, be my loyal boyfriend and protect me from my pestering mother and grandmother at Christmas?”

Marcus started laughing loudly, but he nodded and pulled Oliver up and onto the couch next to him. “Of course, I’d like nothing more.”

“Just, please, tell me that you didn’t have a crush on me when you shot that bludger at me in my fourth year,” Oliver said leaning against Marcus’ side.

“Nah, back then I still hated your guts,” Marcus said pushing his nose into Oliver’s hair. “I think it was during the Battle of Hogwarts. You were so determined and you looked so hot in that turtle neck sweater.”

Oliver laughed. “Good to know that I can seduce you with a turtleneck.”

“I prefer the Quidditch jersey,” Marcus murmured in Oliver’s ear, making him shiver pleasantly.

Oliver turned around to capture Marcus lips with his, and the next minutes were spent in warming bliss. When they parted again, Oliver felt a little sad but the earnest look in Marcus’ eyes gave him pause.

“I just want to make sure that you really want this,” the black haired man said.

Oliver smiled and nodded. “I am. I think, I fell in love with you somewhere along the way.”

“I’m afraid I did as well,” Marcus whispered, fear flitting over his face before being replaced with a smirk. “I guess you’re stuck with my ugly mug now.”

Oliver tackled the man and pinned him down on the couch. “Don’t. You. Dare. Call. Yourself. Ugly,” he said, emphasising every word with a kiss, the last on the scar on Marcus’ cheek. “You’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met, you big dork.”

Marcus laughed. “Alright, alright, I surrender, please don’t eat me!”

Oliver snorted and settled down next to Marcus, one arm over his chest, his head resting on Marcus’ biceps.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, dork.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! More Flintwood is to be found on my profile, leave a comment if you like and have a merry Christmas! :)


End file.
